


The Northern Winter

by Theo_Lannister



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire & Related Fandoms, A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: F/M, POV Alternating, Politics, War, War of the Five Kings
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-08-22
Updated: 2020-08-22
Packaged: 2021-03-07 00:13:41
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death, Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,096
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26037718
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Theo_Lannister/pseuds/Theo_Lannister
Summary: Edmure Tully loses his Battle of the Fords, Gregor Clegane near cutting him in two. The Lannisters march west, and they find themselves trapped in the West. The Tyrells course correct
Relationships: Robb Stark/Margaery Tyrell
Comments: 6
Kudos: 33





	The Northern Winter

"My lord of Highgarden," Petyr Baelish bowed deeply. He learned early in his life that it was best to bow very, very deep for lords like Mace Tyrell. Proud and stupid, Mace Tyrell wanted everyone to know he was rich and powerful. Oh he was, to be sure. He has kin in half the houses of the South, all of them loyal to himself, yet he didn't need to be so... stupid? He was a rotund man, Mace Tyrell was, and few would call him modest, with his solid silk cloak layered thick as if for travel. Gold ornamented his clothes and his rings, that was to be expected, but that is a great deal more gold than a normal man needed. His fat little fingers had room for gold.

"Arise, Lord Baelish," his brown eyes seemed to glare into him, small and piggish. He was, above all else, _greedy_. For gold and food, of course, but for respect is what he truly desired. And he was hungry for what Littlefinger was to serve him. "I trust you come on behalf of your king, Joffrey Baratheon?"

"Our king, I hope," Bearish corrected. "His grace, King Joffrey has sent me to treat with you, as I imagine you've guessed. To fight our common foe." Mace Tyrell snorted at that. "Common foe? Now who is that?"

"Lord Stannis, of course."

"And why would I have scorn for Lord Stannis? By rights, he is the heir of King Renly." Mace's smile could curdle milk. He was watching Littlefinger, waiting for him to say what both of them know. _Joffrey is not a Baratheon_. But of course, Baelish was not stupid enough to say that out loud, but the statement remained in the air, as thick as incense. Peter was tempted to play with the Fat Flower.

Littlefinger answered with a question. "Than why, I wonder, did you have your lord Tarly to slay a great deal of Florents?"

Mace Tyrell made a rude noise. "Don't speak of... _Florents_. But just so." _The Tyrells loved Renly, but they will never love Joffrey. But at least they don't hate him_.

"Treasonous whoresons, the whole lot of them," Baelish agreed. "Which is why I've been sent to you, to help bring these outlaws to justice." Mace Tyrell chortled at the opening phrase, but grew more serious when he finished.

"And what will happen to my daughter, the Dowager Queen?" There were only two queens Petyr Baelish knew, the Queen Mother and Regent and Margaery. She'd only be a queen, however, if Renly was a king. Something that Baelish couldn't openly state.

"Lady Margaery," Petyr began, "is famed throughout all of Westeros for her beauty, and King Joffrey has come to love her from afar."

"Hmm..." Mace drummed his fingers on his fat thigh. "I shall needs think on it."

* * *

Edmure Tully was wearing his mud red cloak, his visor raised to better survey the field. Stone Mill was the easiest ford to cross on the Red Fork. Years of caddle and farmers wandering with grain had made all but a rode. It was where Tywin Lannister was to cross, he believed. But he had to keep his heavy cavalry far away, he could not risk the Lannisters to see him, or else a fragment of his plan could be grasped.

Unfortunately, that meant that Edmure was far, far away when the Mountain crossed the Red fork. He rode hard with his men, young knights around his own age. They flew the Tully Red and Navy, not their own sigils. But even still, they were a colorful company, many wearing surcoats of their house, and those that could afford it added silver or gold ornamentation. Ser Gregor's company was... different.

Clegane had no ornamentation, his banner barer lying dead in the mud, no surcoat. But he was unmistakably Gregor Clegane. Eight feet of stubborn stone, a sword near the size of Edmure's whole body. But, noticeably, unhorsed. "Riverrun! Tully! Tully!" he and his men chanted, charging. Only once the mill was in sight did Edmure see his danger. This was not one of the raiding parties that had troubled the other fords, this was... an army. Edmure meant to slow, to reorganize, to... _think_. But there was no time, only to charge. 

Charge into Ser Gregor Clegane, his legs locked and his sword held... menacingly. He did not even seem to see Edmure's party, simply standing their like his name sake. A mountain sitting on the west bank of the Red fork. Until he suddenly jerked alive, delivering a powerful strike that broke the neck of Lucas Blackwood's horse. _Gods be good, that was not a sword thrust, that was his fist!_ Ser Gregor did not stop to hesitate, slamming his blade against Lucas' breastplate, knocking him from the saddle and twisting his legs.

Edmure's heavy war lance slammed Clegane's shoulder, but that only made him stumble. He reached out with a large hand, lunging towards Edmure (or his reigns, he was not sure). But Ser Gregor's reach was foiled when Patreck Mallister's longsword cracked down on Gregor's elbow. The Mountain meant to turn to strike him, but Patreck had already ridden past, now engaged against an Ashemark. Gregor turned on Edmure, his left arm flopping, stuck in the gambeson of his armor. And Gregor's sword fell.

* * *

_This was not at all what he had intended_. He doubted it was what _anyone_ had intended, save for maybe the Young Wolf himself. "If Lord Tywin is not with us as Tumbler's Falls, we will not float to the Blackwater," Mace Tyrell repeated, annoyingly. "Do you expect the Reach to bleed on behalf of the West, without the west even being there?"

"No, no of course not, only if King's Landing falls, so too does King Joffrey..." he left the last bit unsaid. _And so too does Margaery being a Queen._

"But the west is stuck _in_ the West, aren't they? And there is more than just one Throne in Westeros, isn't there?" That was... almost clever. So clever he seemed to think that Mace hadn't been the one to come up with it. _That old Hag_. Whenever he had seen her, it seemed she was there to vex him, always asking questions about Joffrey. 

After four days of bloody fighting, the Lannister army had broken through the Trident and her fork, marching hard towards the Golden Tooth. Only to be set upon by archers hiding in the hills until they reached the coast, only to find themselves stuck chasing the Northern cavalry. And than, and only than, did the North take the Golden Tooth from the West, a hundred leagues from where they were expected. The only way out of the Westerlands was a thousand miles south to the Reach, looping around the Golden Hills, or through Lannisport to the West. The former, too long, the latter, also too long (though not as long as the former) with even more danger, forcing the Westermen to sail miles off of the Iron Islands. The Lannisters were trapped.

And now, Baelish was trapped as well. Surrounded by Tyrells who no longer seemed so willing to join the Lannisters. "We will march to Tumbler's Fall. If the Lannisters are there, they're there. If not..." Mace Tyrell smiled.

* * *

Robb rode into Riverrun on a red charger that was not his own. He had taken it when the Golden Tooth was taken. He'd stayed there for near a month, waiting for his Riverlands foot to join up with them. His horse could take any keep in Westeros, he knew, but they could not _keep_ the keeps. They'd simply swapped places before the Lannister army could approach. They would hold the Golden Tooth, Greatjon Umber had promised, even if he had to flood the whole valley with blood. Robb was needed elsewhere. He had to treat with the Tyrells.

His mother greeted him on the water steps in the stead of his uncle, who was wounded. _Stupid, I told him to hold Riverrun, not hold the Fords_. But he could not say that, not with Ser Edmure's current condition. Robb sat through the fanfare half asleep he felt. He was dazed and tired from a day of riding, so dazed he barely noticed a young man, mayhaps a year his senior, with three golden flowers on his chest. _They've come early_. And so, Robb had to speak his pleasantries, before inviting Loras Tyrell and his councilors to his solar.

"Twenty thousand foot with another seven thousand horse," Loras Tyrell said with an easy confidence that Robb took to mean he was truthful. "Given maybe, four months or so, we can add another twenty." _This man is offering me forty thousand men._ Robb Stark had crossed the Neck with twenty thousand men, maybe four thousand being horse. With Bolton and Riverlanders, he could command maybe fifty thousand. And it could be doubled, if he met the Tyrell's price. Loras did not seem to notice Robb thinking. "Lord Stannis has already taken King's Landing, though the Red Keep still holds. When we ride up to the city, the Reachmen will join us against Stannis, and you've won your war."

Robb bit the inside of his cheek, thinking. _You've won your war_. Robb liked that. He would have justice for his father, vengeance for the smallfolk of the Riverlands, and than he could return to the north and deal with Theon Turncloak. It was so ripe, he could almost taste it. His mother asked the question everyone in the room was wondering "For what price?"

"The hand of my sister in marriage." Maege Mormont breathed in curtly while the Blackfish exchanged a glance with Rickard Karstark. Black Walder said nothing, only stared, his eyes boring into Ser Loras.

"I am promised already, my lord." His eyes darted to his mother, and he saw her hand gripped tightly on the back of his chair.

"To whom?" Loras asked quizzically?

Black Walder answered for him. "To a Frey of the Crossing. A solemn oath sworn to the Gods." _He sounds so angry_. Robb made a mental check to ensure a watch was kept over the Freys for as long as Loras was in the castle.

Loras did not seem to care (or notice) Black Walder's threatening tone. "Not of which house. What is her name?"

"His grace," Black Walder interrupted again, "has yet to choose his betrothed."

"So, you are telling me that the choice is between fifty thousand swords and two thirds of all Westeros and a Frey girl you haven't even chosen?" Loras laughed. "I do not expect this to be a difficult choice, your grace." _Not 'my grace,'_ Robb noted. 

Robb made his voice stern to make up for his silence. "Will you give us time to discuss? This is... quite a decision."

"Aye, your grace." Loras stood, and strode out of the room. The second the door was shut, they all began to speak at once. Black Walder was waving his fist around as if to strike someone, while Rickard Karstark was yelling so angrily that spittle was splashing on Walder's face. The Blackfish was speaking quietly with his mother and Maege was slamming the non-spiked end of her maul on the table. No doubt she was trying to call for silence, though it only added to the noise. Finally, Robb stuck two fingers in his mouth and whistled as he often did for Grey Wind. The chamber grew quiet.

"You can not mean to consider this," Black Walder shifted to glare at Robb.

"And why can't he?" Rickard Karstark responded, "The goal of this war is to defeat the Lannister. If we join with the Tyrells, this war is as good as won."

"King Robb would - should - never break his vow to my sister."

Maege answered "Or is it aunt? Or cousin? Robb's not betrothed to anyone, only an idea." 

"This is absurd!" Black Walder looked as if he was moments from pulling out his blade. The room was silent for an instance, and than Walder strode out as quickly as Loras did. The fire crackled, Wendal Manderly coughed. They said nothing else for a time.

"The Freys bring four thousand blade," Catelyn began slowly, "And the Tyrells bring over tenfold..." That was such a very Catelyn thing to say. Military advice from a person who did not understand military.

"Aye, but how many of these are from the Tyrell demesne? How many come from their vassals?" Brynden Tully asked. "And how many of those vassals are truly loyal? And worst of all, the Freys control the Twins. If we offend the Freys, we could never return to the North." _And most of the garrison at the Golden Tooth were Freys... if they rebelled and joined the Lannisters..._

"Allf of you are forgetting something. I _did_ swear a vow to Lord Frey, not his daughters. His heir has already died for me, and you want me to turn my back on him?" He snorted. "This is not just a war, the honor of our kingdom is at stake. If the world sees me as an oathbreaker, how can I expect others to treat with me?"

"Robb," Brynden Tully spoke slowly, "I am the last man in all of Westeros to give advice on the behalf of marriage contracts. But even losing all of House Frey, we would come out well ahead with the Tyrells."

_I can never accept this_ , Robb thought. "I will consider this," he said. If he gave terms to the Tyrells and Freys... "Uncle, please fetch me Ser Perwyn Frey and Ser Loras."

* * *

"Maybe..." Ser Perwyn sounded unsure, "Maybe if Ser Edmure was well, but he is on his death bed. My father will never accept that."

"And my Father will accept nothing but Queen Margaery." Loras responded, haughtily.

"Ser Edmure alone... no. But maybe we could try more than Edmure?"

"Such as?" Robb jumped eagerly. Three hours they'd debated on the subject, and Robb was ready for even an inch of compromise.

"Ser Edmure weds a daughter, as does another heir. Harrion Karstark? Brynden Blackwood? Either would work suitably. A duke and Lord Paramount is close enough to a king, aye?" This had potential, Robb could almost smell it. "Of course, if we find your sister Arya..." Robb did not fail to note the if.

"Ser Loras, do you have cousins?" Robb looked at the young knight. _Proud, but not stupid_ he decided. 

"Several. Alla and Megga aren't promised, as of yet, and Elinor is betrothed to the heir of Ambrose," Loras seemed to be chewing his lip, thinking.

"Your nephew, Walder... he is the heir to Darry, is he not?" Robb asked Perwyn.

"Only if you discount Ser Cleos and his brood. And Tywin Frey is so Lannister he shits gold, though he is older than Walder." Loras found that amusing and Robb felt himself smiling too. 

"Sers, I think we've found a compromise. The Freys release me from my vow, in exchange for Edmure and Brynden Blackwood wed Frey girls, while..." he wasn't sure which Tyrell girl, "Alla Tyrell?" Loras nodded, "Alla Tyrell weds the new lord of Darry. I'll write to Tywin Frey, he's near thirteen, he should be able to make a choice like that." He wished his mother had left Ser Cleos at Riverrun. Ser Cleos would switch his side to the Starks if it meant his son was to wed a Tyrell.

"Agreed," Said Loras.

"Agreed," said Perwyn.

"Agreed," Robb gave a tired smile. "Sers, best rest well. We ride for Tumbler's Fall on the marrow."

* * *

_The Second Siege of the Red Keep is one of the few three sided sieges in history. The self proclaimed 'King Stannis,' took the city of King's Landing after a devastating wildfire blast sunk near half the fleet. But more men were able to cross the Blackwater before the Mud Gate was smashed open, leading to most of the Goldcloaks to flee or desert. The former Lord Hand, Tyrion Lannister, had vanished on the infamous "Bridge of Ships," leaving the command of the Castle to Queen Dowager Cersei Lannister and Osmund Kettleblack. The two, in what is widely considered a miracle, were able to defend the Red Keep for almost four months. Enough food was laid inside that King Stannis was forced to starve out the Red Keep, being too low in numbers to properly storm the Red Keep._

_It is said that Queen Cersei weaped in joy when she say trebuchets being launched outside of the city. Cut off from the outside world, the Queen did not know that her father Tywin Lannister was trapped in the Westerlands. What the Queen mistook for her father was, in actual fact, Lord Bolton's vanguard, some seven thousand foot. The Bolton forces took Stokeworth, using it as a forward base to repel counters from King Stannis. They sat in deadlock until the Golden Rose of House Tyrell appeared on several Barges floating down stream. Queen Cersei is quoted to say "Littlefinger has done it!"_

_She was not aware that Petyr Baelish's skull was rotting atop a spike at Bitterbridge._

_Most of King Stannis' men were Reach Lords who were sworn to King Renly through Queen Margaery. When they saw the Tyrells opposite them, many changed to the side of the Starks and Tyrells. The city fell shortly, with many of the gates being opened from within. It is believed that Ser Garlan the Gallant dueled King Stannis, killing him and taking his blade. Filled with bloodlust from the relativly easy taking of the city, the Northmen and Reachmen stormed the Red Keep, though no one is quite certain as to who gave the command, or if there even_ was _a command. Queen Cersei, taken by surprise, was unable to prepare for a counter storming, and the Castle was taken shortly. Queen Cersei was found beheaded in Maegor's Holdfast, though it is unknown who slayed her. Memorable to poets was the reunion between Lady Sansa Stark, who had hidden in the Godswood, and her brother, King Robb Stark._

_Robb Stark executed King Joffrey Baratheon using the blade Ice in the Dragonpit. So too were most of the remainders of King Joffrey's council. Ser Jacelyn Bywater, Lord Commander of the Goldcloaks, Ser Osmund, acting Lord Commander, as well as the rest of the Kingsguard, save Ser Balon Swann, who was spared as a boon to his brother, Grandmaester Pycelle, and several other notables. Lord Varys, known as 'The Spider,' vanished._

_-_ Archmaester Benedict's " _The War of the Five Kings"_


End file.
